


Sherlock: Nothing And Everything

by IBegToDreamAndDiffer



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Implied Relationships, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-23
Updated: 2012-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-30 00:56:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/325993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IBegToDreamAndDiffer/pseuds/IBegToDreamAndDiffer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock, John, Greg and Mycroft are strange men. But they complete each other like nobody else ever has. A small look at who the characters are</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nothing And Everything

**Author's Note:**

> Ownership: Original characters are owned by Arthur Conan Doyle, these versions are owned by Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss. I just get to play.

Sherlock Holmes is tall, thin, lanky, exotic. He has high cheekbones that can cut you, perfect curly hair as black as coal. His eyes are pale, icy, with a sharpness you can’t find anywhere else. His alabaster skin looked cold and smooth but is warm and welcoming. His full, pink lips draw you in before the words spewing from them push you away. His clothes are sharp and well-fitted; perfect. Sherlock is like a spring, acts like a mad man. If you push him he’ll snap right back before veering off like a shooting star; bright and leaving a trail of flames behind. Sherlock Holmes is... different.

John Watson is strong, reliable, cuddly. He stands with an air of detached strength that tells you he’ll always be there; you could drive a tank at John Watson and he’ll push it back. He’s always there when you need him; he’s the guy you can depend on. Even his clothes, his expression and eyes and haircut all scream military efficiency. He’s handsome, adorable, oh so cute in those stripy jumpers and plaid shirts. He’s... he’s reliable.

Greg Lestrade is average height with broad-shoulders and thick, spiky grey hair that defies gravity no matter how much product he puts in it. His tanned skin matched his warm, dark brown eyes. Greg wears off-the-rack suits to work and jeans when at home. Everything about him screams _workaholic_. He is a man who’s been trodden on, pushed, smashed to the ground. And each and every time Greg has gotten back up. The criminals can’t wipe away his boyish grin or earthy eyes. Murderers and rapists can’t stop him enjoying a smoke and smiling. Greg’s clothes and looks show abuse and anger and a little resentment. But his eyes and that grin show a man who can take anything and get back up. Lestrade? He’s strong.

Mycroft Holmes is dangerous. Everything about him screams power. His perfect ginger-brown hair, his piercing blue eyes that see more than his brother, his condescending smile and teeth and skin and clothes– everything together shows wealth and power and a brilliant mind. His three-piece suits, tailor made and very expensive, hide a man with soft, pale skin and ginger hair. They hide a man who could kill you fifty different ways in ten seconds. The umbrella in his right hand only heightens the movements he makes. A small eyebrow raise and a chuckle can make you feel like a speck of dirt. Everything Mycroft does is catered to fit a specific need or desire; his body language matches what he wants, what he wants to manipulate you into doing. Mycroft Holmes is powerful.

For some reason the four men, all different in many ways, work well together... most of the time.

Sherlock and John can fight and scream and not talk to each other for three days. But if Sherlock calls John goes running. If John’s in danger Sherlock won’t sleep until the doctor is safe again. They are two sides of a coin; John is Sherlock’s moral compass, Sherlock John’s key to adventure and danger. They complement each other completely. They need each other completely.

Sherlock and Greg are... they drive each other absolutely insane. Sherlock is loud and rude and disruptive, Greg is calm and collected and able to smile anything away. Sherlock needs Greg for cases and company and sometimes the occasional piece of advice or a cigarette. Greg needs Sherlock’s brilliance and danger and excitement. They need each other to survive.

Sherlock and Mycroft? They hate each other. They despise each other. They absolutely, without a doubt, do NOT like each other. They love each other, the brothers are there for each other. If Sherlock needs help, really, _really_ needs help, he can call Mycroft. His brother will drop everything to help Sherlock no matter what the cost. And if Mycroft needs Sherlock to solve a case or do something, anything, Sherlock will do it. The younger Holmes will bitch and moan but at the end of the day he wants his brother to be happy. There is no one else on the planet who understands Sherlock like Mycroft does. John gets that Sherlock is different. Greg gets that Sherlock needs to be rude. Mycroft understands how Sherlock’s mind works. No one else can claim to understand Sherlock completely. No one else knows how fast the genius’ mind works. Only Mycroft does. Because Sherlock understands Mycroft’s mind. Mycroft works on a whole other level to Sherlock. He’s smarter, more cunning, more dangerous.... but only Sherlock has any idea of how difficult it is to be a genius like Mycroft. They hate each other, loathe each other; Sherlock hates Mycroft’s brilliance and ability to understand and hide emotions. Mycroft hates Sherlock’s free nature and energy. They love each other. __

John and Greg get on like a house on fire. Both are down-to-earth men pulled into the cyclone known as Sherlock Holmes. They both crave danger and excitement like a drug and are more than happy to drop everything for the genius. They like to complain about said genius; they like to drink beer and bitch and moan that Sherlock isn’t normal... that he isn’t like them. But they love it, love every part of it. John brings a slice of normality to Greg’s life and vice versa.

John and Mycroft work to keep Sherlock sane. The elder Holmes knows everything, can see everything, but it’s John who makes it happen. John has the warmth and humanity to make sure Mycroft’s plans concerning Sherlock go well. John is able to call on Mycroft for absolutely anything; the elder Holmes is there to make sure John is okay because Sherlock needs him to be okay. John and Mycroft are very different people but they work towards the same cause; they want Sherlock to be happy.

Greg and Mycroft... Greg and Mycroft get along. They’re very different; Greg is down to earth, Mycroft runs the planet. Greg likes beer, Mycroft likes stupidly expensive wine. Greg likes football, Mycroft feels sick at the thought of physical exercise. But they are both the outsiders looking in; they get to see Sherlock’s world but are on the sidelines. Only John Watson is allowed in completely, leaving Greg and Mycroft to pick up the pieces. Greg works with Mycroft on keeping Sherlock out of prison; of making sure he stays out of too much trouble. They speak to police commissioners and security companies and employees to make sure Sherlock, and John, are safe. Greg and Mycroft work well together. _Very_ well together. Both understand when the other has to leave to chase after Sherlock. Both understand when the other has to work three days and live off coffee and cigarettes. Both understand when the other needs a quiet night in. Greg makes Mycroft happy. Mycroft makes Greg happy.

Sherlock is loud, disruptive, annoying, brilliant, stupid, arrogant, a good man.

John is quiet, considerate, nice, sturdy, dangerous, a very honourable man.

Greg is tired, older, beaten, charming, giggly, law-abiding, a good cop, great mate and fantastic lover.

Mycroft is cold, calculating, manipulative, dangerous, powerful, protective, lovable and selfless.

Alone they’re different, weird, men to be feared or laughed at or pushed away.

Together they’re a close, good unit, working together to make the world a better place. They work well and make each other happy.

Alone they are nothing.

Together they are everything.


	2. Sherlock Is Sherlock

What can you say about Sherlock Holmes?

The doctor said he was a healthy baby boy with bright blue eyes, full lips, and a little squishy nose. He already had a tuft of dark hair and eyes that could melt any man, woman or child. It was the screaming noises he made that annoyed everyone. One nurse even quit.

Mummy Holmes couldn’t get enough of Sherlock. She named him immediately and began cooing and cuddling, saying he was a little angel, delivered just to her. Even when Sherlock spat and drooled and made ungodly noises at four in the morning, Mummy loved him. She loved him even when he was six and swore at the maid in French. She loved him even when he was nine and got expelled from his first school. She loved him even when he blew up his room, pushed his brother down the stairs, dyed his hair blonde, refused to eat for a week, started smoking, took drugs, went to rehab three times, told her he was bisexual, married John, pushed his brother down the stairs again, and had a baby. Mummy Holmes knew, knows, that her son is different, weird, special. She knows now that it takes a little time with Sherlock; that you have to dig deep and see through his words and actions to get to the man beneath. She knows that you have to work for Sherlock’s love because it’s the only way Sherlock will let you love him.

Father Holmes, or Sherrinford, didn’t understand Sherlock right up until the day he died. Father preferred Mycroft; he preferred Mycroft’s mannerisms and brain and skill. Sherlock was smart, Sherrinford knew that, but Mycroft was smarter; Mycroft was always smarter. Sherrinford loved his son, of course he loved his son, but Sherlock was different. It was the word Sherrinford always used to describe his youngest son. Mycroft was brilliant, Sherlock was different. Mycroft was his pride and joy, Sherlock was different. Mycroft was perfect. Sherlock? He was different. Sherrinford loved Sherlock, right up until the day he died. He saw that Sherlock was smart and talented and broken. He saw that Sherlock had a difficult time processing his emotions and opening up to people. On the day he died Sherrinford Holmes took Sherlock in his arms and said;

 _‘Sherlock, son, I think you’re–’_

 _‘Different,’ Sherlock had nodded. ‘Yes, Father.’_

 _‘No,’ Sherrinford shook his head. ‘Sherlock, you are brilliant; you are amazing, talented, a beautiful young man with problems. I love you with all my heart, Sherlock. You are different to Mycroft but that’s not a bad thing. Mycroft doesn’t have fun like you; Mycroft doesn’t enjoy life like you do. Please, son, show Mycroft what he’s missing. I love you.’_

Sherrinford died five minutes later. Sherlock has never forgotten those words.

Sally Donovan hates Sherlock. She’s always hated Sherlock. Yeah, he’s brilliant. Yeah, he catches killers. But does he have to be such a fucking prat? Does he have to point out that you’re sleeping with a married man? Yeah, Sherlock does, because he’s a fucking stupid, stupid idiot. He’s all pale like a ghost and has those blue eyes that see everything. Sally reckons he’s a vampire. She reckons he’s an experiment gone wrong. She reckons... like everyone else, she reckons he’s brilliant. Yeah, even Sally has to admit it, but only to herself... and Mycroft Holmes’ security but she doesn’t know about that. Sherlock sees things, you know? He _sees_ everything. His brain processes so much and he just... fuck, he’s brilliant, yeah? Sally Holmes reckons he’s brilliant. Sally hates him, she thinks he’s a class-A jerk. He’s still brilliant though.

Anderson hates Sherlock. Loathes him. Fucking wants to kill him. Wants him to go away. Sherlock is a menace, a pest, he contaminates crime scenes and winds everybody around his little finger. He got Greg Lestrade, he got John Watson, he even gets Sally sometimes. Anderson won’t let Sherlock get him though, oh no. Yeah, okay, sometimes Sherlock solves the crime... yeah, he solves all of them, except that one with the guy in the boot. Yeah, he’s smart and cares for his husband and brother and friend... shit, Sherlock got Anderson too. Fuck it, Anderson thinks he’s brilliant.

DI Michael Dimmock thinks the world of Sherlock. He’s still an annoying sod, yeah. And arrogant. Smug. A jack-arse. But really, none of that matters when Sherlock solves the case. And he does that brilliantly. He does it in record time and he’s all dramatic and pig-headed and so great. Yeah, Dimmock has a little man-crush. Just a friend type one because Dimmock is straight. He’s absolutely straight. He’s straight like Greg and John used to be straight. Sherlock is great, not good-looking. No... no, Dimmock doesn’t think he’s good looking, alright? He really doesn’t... doesn’t... shit.

Anthea isn’t paid to have an opinion of Sherlock Holmes. She’s paid to let her boss know when Sherlock does something stupid/illegal/dramatic/... you get the idea. She _does_ have an opinion, she just keeps it to herself. Okay, Anthea thinks Sherlock Holmes is great, really. He’s a little annoying and dramatic; he makes his brother worry and doesn’t seem to care. But he solves cases, he takes care of his husband, he’s there to help his brother and friend when they really need it. Sherlock is a good man. That’s what the woman known as ‘Anthea’ thinks.

Mrs Hudson loves Sherlock. She doesn’t always like what he says or what he eats or his sleeping habits/drug habit/ability to annoy the absolute shite out of you. She still loves him though. Mrs Hudson sees through all the crap; she doesn’t care that Sherlock doesn’t adhere to social normalities. She doesn’t care that Sherlock smokes and shoots her walls (okay, maybe she cares about that a little but really, her _wall?_ And there was a smiley face! A _smiley face_! _A yellow smiley face!_ Honestly, what was that boy thinking? And where was John? Sherlock listens to John all the time. Why didn’t John stop him? John could have stopped him, John was, _is_ , everything to Sherlock, Sherlock would have listened to him. Her _wall_! A _smiley face_!... Okay, getting off track. Er, where was she? Right, right, she doesn’t care about some of Sherlock’s less than lovable traits). She doesn’t care that Sherlock is always in danger. She cares about the man inside and she knows that, inside, Sherlock is a good man. He cares about people; about her and John and Mycroft and Greg. She knows that at the end of the day Sherlock solves crimes because he wants to; because he wants to help people. She doesn’t care that Sherlock pretends to do it because there are more rules. Mrs Hudson can’t be tricked like that. She loves Sherlock; Sherlock is a good man.

Jim Moriarty thought Sherlock Holmes was fascinating. He was brilliant and gorgeous and so very... unpredictable. He wanted to play with Sherlock and let that big brain come out. He wanted to see Sherlock work and run around and try to solve his little puzzles. Sherlock always solved them; each and every major fucking thing Moriarty did, Sherlock solved. It was ever so fun; ever so juicy. Moriarty wanted to sink his teeth into that pale skin again and again. He wanted to watch Sherlock squirm and exercise. He got to see it. Oh, it was lovely. It was amazing to have such a brain coming after him. Too bad Mycroft Holmes didn’t want to play; Mycroft would have been so much better. Sherlock was a steak; Mycroft was the entire cow. But Moriarty made do. The Holmeses were all the same. They thought they were so amazing and different. They thought they were above everyone else. But they weren’t. Moriarty could get to Sherlock by hurting John Watson and Greg Lestrade and Mycroft Holmes and Mummy Holmes and Mrs Hudson and even Sally Donovan. Moriarty was beyond that; beyond love unlike Sherlock Holmes. It was because of that that he died. He died because Sherlock was better. He died because Sherlock’s love made nothing else matter. Moriarty died with a smile on his face, fear in his eyes. Sherlock went down with a grin and tears.

Greg Lestrade always thought Sherlock Holmes was a government experiment, or some type of mole person who’d never actually met another human being... or an alien. He always said Sherlock was brilliant, always _says_ Sherlock is brilliant. There’s no denying that Sherlock Holmes is a brilliant man. Still, Greg tells anyone who’ll listen that Sherlock’s a pain in the arse; Sherlock _is_ a pain in the arse. The man never shuts up, does he? He never stops to think about how other people are feeling. He never stops to think that maybe, just maybe, a man doesn’t want to know that his wife of ten years is cheating on him with a PE teacher. Sherlock never thinks about anything important. But that’s Sherlock, Greg always says it. He thinks it too ever since Mycroft Holmes said it. Sherlock is... he’s Sherlock. Greg knows Sherlock is amazing and brilliant and... God, that’s all anyone every says, isn’t it? Greg feels like he’s going around in circles when he thinks or talks about Sherlock Holmes. What hasn’t been said before? At the end of the day Sherlock helps catch killers. He makes his husband happy and he tries, sometimes hard, to make the people around him happy. Sherlock is... Greg thinks that under it all, under the amazing deductions and razor-sharp mind and weirdness, Sherlock is human. As much as Sherlock would hate to hear it, he _is_ human. Greg Lestrade used to say that Sherlock Holmes was a good man... one day he’d be a great man. He doesn’t say that anymore. No, now Greg says Sherlock is a great man without hesitation, without pausing to think or wonder about his words. Greg doesn’t _think_ Sherlock Holmes is a great man. He knows it.

Mycroft Holmes loves his brother for all his faults. He knows Sherlock has many faults, he tells Sherlock that every time they meet. He tells Sherlock that he’s brilliant and amazing and capable of so much. He tells Sherlock that he will always be there and will always care about him. He tells Sherlock he loves him just for being him. He doesn’t say it aloud, of course, Mycroft Holmes never could say it aloud unless Sherlock was in hospital. But it’s there in his eyes, his eyebrows, his body and face and hands and everything. It’s there when Sherlock stuffs up and needs his brother’s help. Mycroft Holmes think his brother is annoying and loud and obnoxious and an idiot. He’s thought this since the day Sherlock was born. Sherlock was loud as a baby, loud as a child, loud as a teenager and is so bloody loud as an adult. He’s abrasive and cold and says whatever comes to his mind. But Mycroft wouldn’t change anything because Sherlock is Sherlock. When people ask about his brother that’s what Mycroft says; he says it to the maid, to his driver, to his boss and his colleagues and the bloody Queen. He says it to Greg Lestrade whenever the DI complains about him. Sherlock is Sherlock. And Mycroft loves Sherlock.

John Watson loves Sherlock Holmes. John Watson needs the dictionary to describe Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock is brilliant; everyone says that, though, so John tries not to. Sherlock is always brilliant and the man who loves him, who really knows him, should be able to say something different. Sherlock is messy; he has the ability to leave every item of clothing John owns all over the place despite the fact that John had folded his clothes only an hour earlier.  Sherlock has the ability to throw every single book, pamphlet, takeaway menu, notebook, pad, map, street directory and goddamn scrap of paper all over the flat until it looks like a bunch of high school students have gone insane while studying. Sherlock hides cigarettes in shoes and in books and under floorboards and in toasters. Once John found a cigarette in the stick of butter. He was buzzing all morning after his toast. Sherlock can be annoying; he takes your stuff, he wears your clothes, he sleeps with the blankets wrapped around his skinny frame and your pillow stuffed under his shirt (John didn’t even bother asking about that). Sherlock can be stupid; he doesn’t know anything about astronomy, it took John ten minutes to convince him that Muse was a band, not just the Greek thingies that inspire the human race, and it took John three whole weeks to convince Sherlock that, yes, Greg and Mycroft were happy together. Sherlock didn’t seem to believe him but accepted it when John pointed out the signs. Sherlock can be romantic; he can cook dinner just for John and light candles and bring him roses and music and chocolate. Sherlock can be passionate; he digs his nails into a case, into buying presents for his husband, into John himself. Sherlock can be sulky; if something doesn’t go his way, if he doesn’t get a case, if Greg or his brother outsmart him, Sherlock will curl up on the sofa and pout. Sherlock can be withdrawn when he thinks John is upset or when he thinks John doesn’t love him. John doesn’t mind comforting Sherlock with a hug or a coffee or even a cigarette. Because John Watson loves Sherlock Holmes. He loves everything about Sherlock. He loves the crassness, the sulking, the nicotine addiction, the sex, the looks, the kisses, the small smiles Sherlock only gives him. He loves the curly hair and lean body, the well-fitted suits and silk shirts. John loves the ‘consulting detective’ thing and the manic moods Sherlock goes through. He loves whispering, ‘a bit not good,’ when Sherlock does something socially unacceptable. He loves chasing after Sherlock through London’s streets and shooting people for Sherlock. John loves Sherlock because he’s unlike anyone else, he’s unlike anyone John will ever meet or is likely to meet. The doctor thinks the world of Sherlock Holmes. John loves Sherlock because he’s Sherlock. Period.

What can Sherlock Holmes say about Sherlock Holmes? He describes himself as a genius, a sociopath, the man with the ability to see everything. But he doesn’t see everything all the time. It took him too long to see Moriarty’s full plan. It took him too long to realise how he, and how John, felt. It took him too long to see that Greg was close to falling apart. It took him too long to see that his brother was at the end of his rope. But he got it in the end and that made Sherlock happy. Happy to take Moriarty down, regardless of his own life. He realised how he felt and his heart flutters every time he sees John, especially when John tells him how _he_ feels. Sherlock had always thought that love, that caring, was a weakness, like his brother said but didn’t really feel. Sherlock had always thought that loving someone else with all your heart would get you hurt; that loving family was bad enough so loving someone else would be even worse. But it wasn’t like that. It didn’t make Sherlock feel scared. It completes him; John and his love completes Sherlock. He’s okay with that. He’s okay with his brother and friend getting together because they were both unhappy before. They were both overworked and tired and angry and fucking pissed off at the world. Sherlock saw it just before it was too late. He saw it just before they both gave up. He saw how they changed with each other. It makes Sherlock happy even though it doesn’t do anything to him; he doesn’t get anything out of the relationship. And that makes Sherlock happy. To know his brother and friend are safe and together... it makes Sherlock Holmes feel good.

What can Sherlock Holmes say about Sherlock Holmes? Plenty. But everyone else’s opinion is far more entertaining, Sherlock thinks. He likes being called an idiot, a freak, a brilliant dickhead with the ability to see everything.

At the end of the day everyone has an opinion of Sherlock Holmes. Sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s bad, even from the people who care about Sherlock the most. A million things can be said about the great Sherlock Holmes. His brother says it the best.

What can be said about Sherlock Holmes?

Sherlock is Sherlock.

Period.


	3. John: Doctor, Soldier, Friend

John Watson is a doctor, a soldier. John is a friend, a colleague, a shoulder to cry on. He’s a lover, a husband. He’s calm, controlled, collected. John is brilliant and normal and special. John is so many, many things.

Mrs Watson will always say that John was the calmest baby. He barely ever cried or threw tantrums. Even as a child he was more interested in making sure everyone else was okay. He followed around his big sister and was always there to help her. He was a sweet child and teenager; so cuddly and adorable and warm. She still thinks those things but it embarrasses him when she says it... especially around Sherlock. Sherlock agrees with her though that doesn’t make John any less embarrassed. Sherlock and Mrs Watson don’t care.

Mr Watson thinks his son is strong, sturdy, smart and reliable. John was always there to help out around the house, even when he hit puberty and spent half his time chasing girls. He would always drop everything to help his dad work on the car or the house. He was always there to put away the shopping and cook with his mum. John was, _is_ , always there.

Harry has always thought her brother is an annoying little prick, ever since her parents brought him home. Of sure, he was adorable, with big blue eyes and sandy-blonde hair. Yeah, he was pudgy and warm and made cute little gurgling sounds. But that was when he was a baby. As a child he stalked her, dressed like her, wanted to _be_ here. As a teenager it was so he could hang out and hit on her mates, including her first girlfriend. As an adult John was always throwing his two-cents in; lecturing her about her hair, her weight, her drinking (really, Harry wasn’t surprised when her little brother started dating Sherlock Holmes. The boy had some _very_ gay habits.) Despite all that, despite annoying the absolute SHIT out of her, Harry loves her brother. He was always there to pick her up from hospital or sit with her while she sobered up. He talked to her through her many break-ups and breakdowns. He even offered his shoulder when she and Clara got divorced. John was always going to do great things; was always going to care for as many people as he could. But he always, always, cared about her, no matter what. Afghanistan couldn’t keep John Watson from caring about his family. He’s annoying, yeah, and so bloody lecturing. But Harry loves her brother. He’s... he’s her brother.

Sarah always liked John, she still likes John, even though he basically dumped her for Sherlock Holmes. Oh yes, at the time it was because Sherlock needed him, not because John was in love with him (not yet anyway). John is a good doctor. Sarah knows it. He’s good with patients no matter how young or old. He’s good at taking care of sick people and making them better. He’s good at being there for people. Sure, sure, he drops everything to run off after his flatmate, but John’s still reliable and good company. He can have a soft sense of humour or a dirty one. He knows how to flirt with any woman no matter what age, weight, height, ethnicity. He’s good with women, that John. He’s so unassuming; he sneaks up on you and suddenly BAM, he gives you that smile. John is a good man, a very good man, despite his odd devotion to Sherlock and their weird life. John is... he’s a doctor. He’s strong.

Mrs Hudson thinks John is a god-send. He takes care of Sherlock and keeps the taller man out of harm... well, mostly out of harm. John’s there to stop the experiments getting out of hand, to stop the flat becoming an absolute disaster zone. John is sweet and caring; he sits with her and has tea and biscuits. He listens to her complaints and her stories. John has time for everyone; he’s always there for everyone. He’s there for Sherlock. Mrs Hudson worries about Sherlock but less so when he’s with John. John is a saint. Mrs Hudson loves her boys. She loves John the most (shh, don’t tell Sherlock).

Dimmock thinks John’s a good bloke. Utterly mad to be married to Sherlock Holmes. But still, good bloke really. Patient, reliable, sturdy... Dimmock thinks he’s cute too, especially in those jumpers. No, wait, he did _not_ say that. Nope. Absolutely not ’cause Dimmock’s not gay, got it? He’s NOT gay... he’s not... shit.

Sally likes John. She thinks he’s weird to throw his lot in with Sherlock Holmes (and then MARRY him!) but she still likes him. John is a soldier so he’s brave. He gets all calm and in-control when faced with danger. He can stutter a bit, fumble over himself when he doesn’t know what’s happening or when Sherlock looks at him in _that_ way, but stick a gun to his head and John turns into Mr Robert. Is John weird? Sally thinks so. Is he brave? Sally definitely thinks so. Is he good for the Freak? Sally most definitely, one hundred percent, thinks so. John Watson is a good sort and he makes Sherlock Holmes a better man. She just hopes Sherlock doesn’t rub off on him _too_ much.

Anderson doesn’t particularly like John. Oh yeah, he’s nice; the bloke’s always nice to _everyone_. But he comes in all ‘I was a doctor in the army and know everything’ and steals Anderson’s job, his thunder. He makes Anderson look stupid and Anderson gets enough of that from the Freak. Yeah, yeah, John’s a good doctor, Anderson isn’t denying that. But can’t the man get another job? One that keeps him away from crime scenes? And does he _have_ to stare at the Freak like a love-sick puppy? And does he really, _really_ , have to punch anyone who says more than one bad sentence about Sherlock Holmes? There’s one thing Anderson knows about John Watson; the man has a killer right-hook.

Anthea loves Doctor Watson. He’s good for Sherlock; he keeps Sherlock out of harm. That makes Mycroft Holmes happy. And that makes Anthea happy. Her job is easier when Mycroft doesn’t have to worry about his brother. And he doesn’t have to worry because John takes care of Sherlock. John is strong. He’s smart and sweet and reliable. Anthea really does like Doctor Watson. It was cute when he hit on her and Anthea has to admit, the man has balls; he hit on her twice. Anthea’s never let a man hit on her twice. Oh, she’ll flirt, she’ll smile, but she never lets them think they have a chance. Only Mycroft Holmes is allowed to overly flirt and Anthea doesn’t mind. He’s charming, he’s her boss, and he’s gay. Anthea doesn’t mind when John Watson does it either because John’s cute. Maybe Anthea _shouldn’t_ have rejected him. He really does look adorable in those jumpers...

Greg Lestrade might just be in love with John Watson. Not in a ‘I-want-to-have-sex-him’ kind of way but in a ‘Thank-fuck-someone-in-my-life- _isn’t_ -insane’ kind of way. Greg loves how John calms Sherlock down, how he makes the genius more human. Sherlock was a nut job before John, now he’s closer to being just crazy. And John is normal, you know? Greg likes that John’s normal. He can have a beer with John, can laugh with John. He can talk about the footy and Doctor Who and his boyfriend. He can complain about work and not be called a dickhead or an idiot. John is easy to talk to, Greg likes that. John is always understanding; he doesn’t judge, he just listens. John is incredibly brave too. He throws himself into danger on a weekly basis. Plus, you know... he _lives_ with Sherlock _and_ has sex with him. The guy is fucking brave as hell. He’s Greg’s best mate.

Mycroft Holmes knows how to read people. He knows how to read _everything_ in a three-second glance. He saw that John was brave, that he was above average in intelligence. He saw that John wasn’t scared of him, that he loved danger and mystery and a good cup of tea. He didn’t see that John could care so much about his little brother. He didn’t see that John would make Sherlock happy in more ways than anyone could imagine. He didn’t see that John loved Sherlock and that Sherlock loved John, not until much later. John Watson has the ability to surprise Mycroft all the time. He surprises Mycroft with his caring, his honesty, the way he can block everything out and focus on the important things. He surprises Mycroft by seeing the best in people, by refusing to believe the worst until he has no choice. John is good for Sherlock... at the end of the day, that’s all Mycroft cares about. John cares about Sherlock so Mycroft cares about John.

Sherlock Holmes thinks John is a good doctor. He is sturdy, strong, able to multi-task and focus on one thing completely, blocking everything else out. He has soft, skilled hands that are always still. He has the ability to talk to people; relate to them, calm them down, make them feel safe. Sherlock thinks John is a good soldier. You can tell John was a soldier. Everything about him screams military; his hair-cut, his clothing, the way he holds himself and walks. John is efficient and tidy, he can make himself seem taller and stronger than anyone Sherlock knows. The way he stands, all rigid and strong and... _John_. John is a good friend, Sherlock knows from experience. John barely knew Sherlock that first night yet followed him into hell, saved his life, shot someone for him. John is loyal; he’ll always be there for his mates. He’s there when Greg needs him, he’s there when Mycroft needs him. And most importantly, he’s there when Sherlock needs him. Sherlock loves everything about John. He loves his dark blue eyes, his brown-grey hair cut all short (it goes fluffy in the morning and Sherlock _adores_ it... not that he’ll ever say it outside the bedroom). He loves that John thinks tea can fix anything. John makes tea when Sherlock is sick or tired or hurt or fighting with his brother. John takes care of Sherlock, Sherlock loves that the most. He cooks and cleans and tells Sherlock he’s smart. He takes away Sherlock’s cigarettes and drugs. He makes sure Sherlock sleeps and eats and does his laundry. John is reliable and calm and funny and strong and sexy and wears a lot of jumpers (Sherlock especially loves the red-and-black striped one... he likes to think of it as John’s Sex Jumper). John is everything to Sherlock. He makes everything better. He makes sure Sherlock gets cases and doesn’t fall off the wagon or smoke too much. He’s... he’s everything to Sherlock. He’s John. He’s a doctor. He’s a soldier. He’s a friend and colleague and husband and brother and son and lover and... and he’s _Sherlock’s_. He’s Sherlock’sJohn.

John’s never thought he was anything special. He’s always been short and had dark blue eyes. He’s always been broad-shouldered and thin. He’s plain; John thinks he’s plain. Yeah, he’s always been a good multi-tasker. He has the ability to block everything out. Everything unimportant becomes white noise as John focuses. It makes him a good doctor, a good soldier. Sometimes it makes him a good friend because John can push through all the shit and see what’s important. It’s how John realised he loved Sherlock and vice versa. Sherlock’s annoying habits, his words, his unbelievable spitefulness became white noise, garbled voices in the distance. John only saw the love. John never thought he’d get someone like Sherlock, not just because he’s brilliant but because... well, he’s a _he_. But Sherlock... he has the ability to change your sexuality apparently... and John loves it. Sherlock is brilliant and amazing and exotic. John is normal, ordinary, average, nobody. But then... maybe that’s a good thing. Sherlock and Mycroft are brilliant and yet sometimes they’re so miserable. Sherlock gets bored and shoots the walls. Mycroft gets bored and starts wars. When John gets bored he flicks on the TV, goes to the pub, reads. Maybe there’s something to be said for being normal, ordinary. John can ground Sherlock because he’s human, can’t he? He can be Sherlock’s moral compass, his tether to earth _because_ he’s normal. John loves Sherlock but he doesn’t want to _be_ Sherlock. He sees how hard it is... okay, so maybe John’s okay with being normal. He can enjoy a cuppa, a football game, Doctor Who. Sherlock can’t; he’s too brilliant. John is... normal. Maybe that’s what Sherlock sees in him. Maybe John’s normality makes him special. John thinks that sounds insane... no, he knows it’s insane. Well, he never said he was sane, did he? He married Sherlock Holmes, after all. Sherlock’s brilliant. John’s normal. John likes that.


End file.
